on writing romance while being single
I’m not sure if it’s taboo to anyone but me, but to me it feels simply not done. there’s also, unfortunately, the reality that I have been in love, and when I was, I wasn’t writing, not my stories. It wasn’t that I was rendered un-creative, it was that it felt biographical to put what I was feeling into a character’s words (and also I was channeling all that creativity into making sure they knew how I felt). Which then begs the question of: isn’t it biographical every other time? When I write a character pining, it’s not actually her longing for her lover, it’s me willing that love to be…
I can’t decide if it’s a form of manifestation, a form of journaling, or a form of incredible self-pity.
There’s a weird Catch-22 with knowing the relationship status of authors (just me that notices this? cool cool cool). On the one hand, if someone is happily coupled, amazing, there is hope, and they’re writing from what they know. On the other, I can’t help but feel condescended to like of course you think that falling in love will solve every problem our FMC faces, because it worked out for you. What about those of us who’re still waiting for the timing to be right, the right person to materialize, etc. ?And then knowing the author is single—amazing, she gets me. she knows what it’s like, and I trust her with the ambition of this character, her sense of self and autonomy, her identity outside of a relationship, because she too has had people insist that they know how to define her happiness, and it’s with romantic love. But on that other hand, can I trust the happily ever after? Isn’t it all fantasy, if it didn’t even work out for the author in real life?
I’ve already spoiled which category I fall into.
The typical questions around smut, especially for those newer to the genre, are around realism. Is it fair to depict sex this way, is it a realistic expectation to set, what if bodies don’t do that, what if MY body doesn’t do that, how do readers relate to this? And I think for the romance and emotional sides of it, there is something of a similar indulgence. Writing the kind of love and support that I want from a partner feels halfway like a wish and halfway like a curse, like writing it is guaranteeing I won’t get to experience it.
I do think that’s why I continue to write — if the version of me who is writing doesn’t have it, mayhaps the version of me who is written must have it. If I’m writing it, it’s real somewhere, and hopefully someone reads it and feels warmer, or relief, or hope. Maybe that’s too lofty, maybe it’s simply relatable. I hope when someone reads my work, whatever life stage they’re in, they don’t necessarily feel like it’s how they should be, but how they can be. Maybe even how they are, where they’re at. And if I can dream it for my characters, then I can dream it for my readers too.
